Page 6 of Want It All

‘Oh, fuck .’ My head fell back as my arms began to shake, my fingers curling around the edge of the desk so tightly I was surprised the wood didn’t splinter. ‘Oh, fuck. Alpha .’

Tristan swirled his tongue, then took me all the way to the base in one graceful swallow.

I almost blacked out, my vision flickering with pleasure. ‘Tris, I can’t –’

I wasn’t sure what I couldn’t do: take it, perhaps, or hold on.

Tristan always sucked my cock as if he were dying of thirst and only a mouthful of cum could save him; it was dirty and desperate, and I could never get enough.

He didn’t have a gag reflex, and the sensation of his lips wrapped around me while my head brushed his throat made the world turn white.

It wasn’t just about the physical sensations.

My alpha was on his knees for me, and my fingers were tangled in his beautiful curls, giving me the illusion of control; the notion made me squirm.

We were in a study room because the thought of getting caught turned us both on, but Tristan wouldn’t take his pleasure here.

Instead, he’d break me into pieces and put me back together again, then later, tonight, in the safety of our bed, he’d recount every detail in a series of filthy whispers until we were both writhing, panting messes.

I couldn’t wait.

He moved his lips up and down my shaft, then came off me with an obscene wet sound before dipping down to mouth gently over my sac.

I gave a strangled groan, needy and desperate.

Tristan answered the sound with a filthy chuckle.

If there was one thing in the world that Tristan Grace loved almost as much as me, it was power.

He loved knowing that he could make me beg, make me squirm, make me lose my mind – and I loved knowing that he’d do it, and then wrap me safely in his arms until I was ready to find myself again.

‘Fucking love you, alpha,’ I panted; he swallowed me once more and my hips kicked up of their own accord as I came without warning straight down his throat.

I floated in the afterglow; Tristan gathered me in his arms and brushed kisses below my ears and across my scent glands.

He was an alpha, after all; if alphas had one trait in common, it was their obsession with scent.

It was part of the reason we did this so often: scent blockers were effective at eliminating scent from our skin – from sweat pores or scent glands – but they only minimised the taste of us in cum or slick.

Tristan was obsessed with my scent – a cherry I found much too sweet – and he got his fix in whatever way he could.

I wasn’t any better. His scent was a mouthwatering, elegant vanilla, and I wanted to breathe it in every moment of the day.

I wanted him to scent mark me so I could smell it on my clothes, on my skin, and to have him bite and bond me so that the echoes of his scent would twine through mine, letting every other alpha know that I was taken.

But alas.

Any other alpha in his position would have bitten me without a second thought. But Tristan insisted on being noble about it, and so I remained unbonded. But I was open to the idea of a pack, and Banksia was as good a place as any to start looking.

I gently disentangled myself from his arms and fished in my bag for scent-cancelling spray and wipes. I was never without either, and Tristan always carried extra, too.

We knew what we’d be risking if we weren’t careful.

‘I want to go to the discipline mixers,’ I said, coating myself with cancelling spray.

The later-year and research students were hosting mixers for the first years in discipline common rooms that night.

Tristan would die before studying anything but archaeology, so his specialisation was already set, but I hadn’t decided yet.

I’d been getting a bit bored during our undergraduate degree, even with all the time we’d taken off for Tristan to go on digs, so I wondered whether something new might be better for me.

Ancient history, perhaps, or something completely outside my wheelhouse, like literature.

A different discipline, so I could do a cross-school PhD, with the added bonus of entertaining my brain for a few months while I caught up to the other students.

And I would catch up. I wasn’t conceited, but I couldn’t be modest about it, either. Even without my parents and their achievements, I deserved my place here.

I pushed the thought of my parents away. Banksia House had been theirs; now it was mine. I refused to spend the next few years standing in my mother’s shadow, even if one of the libraries was named after her.

Not the library this study room was in, obviously. I’d never get hard again.

Tristan sprayed himself with canceller while I watched appreciatively.

My alpha was so beautiful, with his even features and soulful green eyes, deep enough to drown in.

He wasn’t built big – not like Byron Griffiths – and people tended to underestimate him because of that, even though he was still taller than me and roped in enough slender muscle that his clothes draped and clung in all the right places.

His family oozed cash – the kind that came with ancestral manor houses and invitations to coronations – and Tristan carried himself with a quiet self-assurance that I’d found irresistible since he’d smiled at me on our first day of university six years ago.

When our clothes were straight and there was no hint of scent in the air, we left the study room for the first mixer.

We were early – and by early , we’d arrived at the first common room twenty minutes after the advertised start time – so it was just us and the later-year students.

We’d started with the classics mixer, and the vibe was overwhelmingly friendly but awkward ; a handsome PhD candidate made a joke in Latin that I responded to unthinkingly, and they paid us more attention after that.

I didn’t think I’d choose classics as my speciality – I didn’t enjoy the rote learning aspect of languages – but I worked to charm them nonetheless, while Tristan watched with an indulgent smile.

We moved onto philosophy next, where I was greeted by a blonde man with a wide grin and eyes that dropped a nanosecond later to my crotch. I retreated and Tristan stepped forward, clearing his throat and moving his hand to rest in the small of my back.

I fucking loved it when he did that. The touch was calming, centring – but it was also a non-verbal fuck you to the other alpha ogling my package.

I couldn’t blame him, obviously. But he could also fuck right off.

I didn’t think philosophy was for me, and not just because it had been my mother’s specialisation.

We left quickly, heading for more familiar ground.

The ancient and modern history students had teamed up, but you wouldn’t know it to look at them: it was as if a line had been drawn down the centre of their common room, with a few hapless individuals that I imagined to be Middle Ages specialists wandering between the two groups.

Tristan must have thought the same, because he gave a tiny cough, a sound that usually covered a laugh. We headed for a stern-looking woman wearing an SPQR pin on her lapel, and a few moments later, Tristan was deep in conversation about museums returning stolen artefacts.

A man smiled at me, and it was a genuine hey-how-are-you smile, not a hey-I’d-like-to-be-in-your-pants one, and I was so grateful that I proceeded to talk his ear off.

Two other men watched from a distance, but I had the feeling they were keeping an eye on their packmate, not assessing a potential new one.

The man’s name was Paul – I had a strong suspicion he was an alpha – and he told me about the ancient history specialisation, dropping the names of a few guest lecturers and tutors he’d had over the years.

I recognised all the names, which was impressive, coming from a different discipline; Banksia House didn’t fuck about when it came to their academic hires.

Paul mentioned their six-monthly trips – to central Australia, Italy, Greece, England, and South America – and their links to academies overseas before he suddenly faltered.

‘Gosh,’ he said quietly, his eyes fixing on the door behind me. ‘She’s brave, I’ll give her that.’

I turned. My breath caught in my throat, because standing in the doorway was a poem of a woman, pretty and curvy with thick auburn hair falling over her shoulders in shining waves. I knew immediately who she was.

Rosemary.

The omega .

The chatter in the room stopped.

She flushed the most delicious shade of pink I’d ever seen, then turned to leave. My chest gave a strange, tight squeeze of what felt like empathy for her.

‘Hey, Rosemary,’ I called to her, running my mouth before my brain could catch up.

Tristan shot me a what the heck, Sebastian look, but I ignored it.

‘I’m so glad you made it! Paul was just telling me about the ancient history tutors, and they’re insane.

’ I gave her my best warm smile and held out my arm, as if I was expecting her to walk into an embrace.

‘And you have to hear about their overseas trips.’

Her brow furrowed, but she must have been dying to hear about the specialisation – or perhaps she was simply desperate for some time out of her bedroom – because she walked slowly across the room and stepped into my outstretched arm , pressing herself lightly against my side.

I let my hand rest on her hip, as if this was totally what I had expected and I was completely fine with it , and not, in fact, battling the sudden, odd urge to push my face into her hair and inhale.

Paul seemed stunned into silence, so I forced myself to chatter.

Tristan was tense, but as I hadn’t yet given him my please save me signal, he stayed where he was, though his eyes flickered between Rosemary and me.

I repeated all the information Paul had already given me, and, by the time I’d finished, the man had recovered enough to keep talking about the second-year curriculum and the current third-year research projects.

Rosemary listened, her lips slightly parted.

My lungs were full of a sweet floral scent, but it wasn’t hers .

It was her hair product, or fragrance, or both, and it was lovely, but my teeth were aching with the unhinged desire to rake across her scent gland to see if she would perfume.

Which would be a totally fucked up thing to do , I told myself, trying to concentrate on keeping my fingers loose on her hip, and not tightening to pull her closer the way I wanted.

Get a grip, Sebastian .

Rosemary asked a question; her voice was rich and smooth and quiet, the kind of voice that caresses, and I could almost see Paul’s brain break in real time.

I repeated the question, drawing his attention back to me, but he gave a garbled answer as his glazed eyes fixed on my lips.

Rosemary twitched uncomfortably under my hand, and I realised that our previously carefree conversation was quickly deteriorating.

I tapped the fingers of my free hand against my thigh, and a moment later Tristan appeared, thanking Paul with a charming smile before murmuring we really should go to the next mixer, baby .

I kept hold of Rosemary’s waist; there was no way I was leaving her alone in a room full of alphas, even if they were history geeks like us. She didn’t resist, letting me pull her into the corridor before she broke away.

I glanced back through the doorway to see Paul shake himself. Another man stepped to his side, patting him sympathetically on the back. Poor thing, I thought. He was doing so well.

‘Thank you,’ Rosemary said breathlessly. ‘His eyes were glazing, did you notice?’ Tristan frowned, and she blinked. ‘Oh. Maybe it’s an omega thing.’

Tristan turned his frown to me. ‘Maybe.’

Rosemary’s eyes flickered between us. ‘I really appreciate the save,’ she said. ‘I take it you know who I am, but I’m not sure of your names.’

‘Sebastian Worthy,’ I answered at once, as if I were saying my name for roll call. ‘And this is my alpha, Tristan Grace.’

She gave a small, sweet smile. ‘It’s nice to meet you both. I’m the omega , obviously.’ Her smile turned wry. ‘But I prefer Rose.’

‘Rose,’ I repeated, but it came out as a croon, and her cheeks turned that delicious shade of pink once more.

Tristan cleared his throat. ‘We’re going to head to the next mixer. It’s been lovely –’

‘And you’re welcome to join us,’ I interrupted, cutting Tristan off before he could dismiss her. ‘Or we can walk you back to your room.’

Her smile widened, and my heart gave an uneven thump. ‘I’d love to join you.’